Another Chance Ficlets
by CharlotteAshmore
Summary: Ficlets in my Another Chance verse. Rushbelle
1. First Meeting

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any characters, plots, etc. pertaining to SGU or Once Upon a Time. Just borrowing them for a little fun and entertainment (o:

 **Summary:** Little ficlets in my Another Chance verse pertaining to Rush and Belle's life before Destiny. Prompts welcome (o:

PartyintheTARDIS12 wrote:

 _Not that you need anything else to write about at the moment, but rereading Another Chance gave me an idea. You mention about a time when Belle discovered Rush in his office drunk, and other tidbits of their life before Destiny. I think you should write little ficlets of those happenings, including the time Belle first met Rush as a professor, and how she freaked out because he looked so similar to Rumple. Just ficlets on how they grew close. Things like that, cause that would be awesome!_

***First Meeting***

Belle French hurried down the hallway, dodging all manner of students and faculty as she made her way to the dean's office, tossing her planner into her bag. She drained the last of her coffee from her travel mug and threw that in there as well, the sharp clicking of her heels on the linoleum mocking her with every step. She patted her hair down - her rich chestnut locks hidden beneath a shade of Clairol's nondescript mousy brown and coiled into a bun at her nape – and pushed her wire-rimmed glasses up on the bridge of her nose. Glancing down to make sure she hadn't picked up any stains on her long-sleeved navy button up and cream colored knee length skirt, she nodded in satisfaction, happy that she looked professional enough for the meeting ahead. She tried to take even-measured breaths, not wanting to seem winded as she yanked on the outer office door and confronted the dean's secretary.

"Miss French, right on time," the woman greeted her, rising from behind her desk and leading the way to the dean's inner sanctum, rapping sharply on the door.

Belle pasted a demure smile on her face as she strode forward, having to remember her new persona as she reached out to shake the man's hand. To Mark Stanton she wanted to appear a professional student with a keen mind – which she was – but also a bit shy and reserved. It was who she'd been for the past six years and she wasn't ready to change that anytime soon. She'd survived on her own this long without notice and she was determined to keep it that way here at her new school.

"Miss French, please have a seat," Dean Stanton said, gesturing to one of the plush leather chairs before his desk. "I have to say I was surprised when you cast your name into the hat for the position as Dr. Rush's teaching assistant."

"Is there a problem? It hasn't already been filled, has it?" she asked, a small wrinkle of concern forming between her auburn brows. The job had intrigued her from the moment she'd read the requirements, knowing she was more than qualified and the course credits she would receive from such a position would only help her in her academic achievements, advancing her far sooner than without the job.

The man looked downright uncomfortable as he shook his head. "No, that's not something you have to worry about, Miss French. This isn't the easiest TA job on campus and actually …" He pulled at his collar as if his tie was choking him. "…we have a difficult time getting anyone to stay on more than a week." It was more like a day, but he wasn't about to tell her that and scare the poor girl off. "Have you taken any of Dr. Rush's classes?"

"Unfortunately, no, I haven't. I arrived late last semester as I was closing up my flat in preparation for the move and I was forced to settle for Dr. Clark's quantum physics course." She hurried to amend that statement, not wanting to sound disparaging of one of her professor's. "Not that there's anything wrong with Dr. Clark, he's wonderful. I would have just rathered have taken Dr. Rush's class instead."

"Erm…" he stammered, toying with the gold pen lying on his desk. "What do you know of Dr. Rush?"

"Regrettably, not that much," she admitted. "From what I've heard, he's very strict and doesn't suffer fools at all. He's also known for booting you from class if you can't keep up with the course requirements. He's rude, sarcastic and a downright arse … or so I've been told," she said, letting the man know she had no illusions as to how the student populace viewed him. "However, he's the most brilliant mind in his field."

The dean regarded her steadily as she in turn peeked at him from beneath her lashes, a shy smile on her lips and a rosy tint to her smooth cheeks. "Miss French, I'm not going to lie to you … he's an asshole."

"I beg your pardon?" she murmured in surprise. It astounded her that a man in his position would say something like that about one of his professors.

"You heard me right. He's the most difficult man I've ever had to work with, but his record is unquestionable. He has the highest test scores in the physics department and he has a god given talent for seducing backers to fund his research. He does not, however, think he needs a teacher's assistant and tries his damnedest to run them off. The man is overworked and is going through quite a bit in his personal life and truly needs someone to help lighten his burden," he said, trying to make her see just what she was signing on for.

She offered him a tight smile. "I've never met him personally, Dean Stanton, but I assure you that I will reserve my opinions of his character until I have. I would really like this opportunity, sir, and as you can see from my resume - which I left with your secretary at the beginning of the week - I won't have a problem fulfilling my duties and keeping up with my studies."

"You're more than qualified, Miss French, and are to be commended for your grades. They're exemplary. I just want you to be certain this is what you want. Therefore, I would like you to meet with Dr. Rush before you give your final acceptance on the position," he said, rising to his feet to see her to the door. "We can go now, if you like. It's best to see Rush before lunch."

"Why is that?" she asked, tilting her head to the side in question.

"His unpleasantness doesn't mix well with a full stomach. Take my advice, Miss French. If you accept this job, you'll want to stock up on antacids."

~*~XXX~*~xxx~*~XXX~*~

Belle walked with Dean Stanton to the Science department, curious as to why the man was so nervous. Surely Rush couldn't be that bad. Unfortunately his office was locked, no one in the staff lounge had seen him nor had any of his students and it wasn't looking favorable that the dean's anxiety would improve. Their last hope was the auditorium style classroom that several of his pupils had dubbed 'the lair of the beast'. Stanton ruefully admitted that he'd had to have graffiti depicting such removed from the door more than once.

She still wouldn't let these things sway her from taking the job. She'd been a pampered princess who'd given her life to one of the vilest creatures in the realm in order to save her kingdom. Though she'd come to love Rumpelstiltskin, there was no denying he'd been a beast. Rush shouldn't be any more difficult, in her opinion.

Stanton led her down the steps, where she could see the professor in question, his back to her as he concentrated on the whiteboard – one of many that formed a semi-circle behind his desk – and completely ignored them. "Dr. Rush," the dean greeted quietly, not wanting to disturb the doctor. He knew he'd have to wait before Rush acknowledged him, if he acknowledged him at all.

Rush grunted in answer as he whipped his notebook from the back pocket of his jeans, consulting it briefly before setting the dry erase marker to the board once more. "I'm busy, Stanton."

"I realize that, but I wanted you to meet –"

Belle didn't hear what Stanton had to say, so focused on that voice from the shorter man her hands shook with the effort. His deep Scottish accent, rich dulcet tones and smooth brogue washed over her like a silken caress. It was so warm and familiar it caused all the color to drain from her face, leaving her flawless skin ashen and pale. Dizziness whirled through her head and blackness crept over the edges of her vision as he turned and she got her first good look at him. He arched a brow at her and she realized she'd missed a valuable piece of the conversation, but how could she think when she was staring at Gold … no, not Gold. Gold was gone … he wasn't coming back.

 _Pull yourself together, you ninny! You're not looking at a ghost,_ she admonished herself sternly. Yet, she couldn't deny how similar they looked. The same lovely shade of sandy brown hair, streaked with silver at the temples, the same intense ocher eyes filled with secrets and a wariness to trust. What threw her for a moment was the coldness she saw there hidden behind the wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose over thin lips and a light dusting of stubble over his hardened jaw. He was clearly not happy to see her.

His gaze, filled with irritation now, flickered back over to the dean. "I told you, Mark … no more assistants. I don't have the time to properly train one and the people you keep sending me are incompetent at best." He looked at her briefly, a smirk tugging at his lips. "No offense."

"None taken," she snapped stonily, her ire rising just a bit. Too bad she wasn't allowed to show it wearing the persona she'd adopted years ago to protect herself. She wasn't about to let him have the upper hand, however. "I will need a list of duties and a copy of your schedule, Dr. Rush and then I will be able to get to work."

Rush frowned at her, crossing an arm over his chest as he tapped the dry erase marker to his chin. "I beg your pardon?"

"Dean Stanton has already been good enough as to hire me, so I would like to begin if that is acceptable to you."

Rush glared at her a moment before turning his back and facing the dean who shifted uncomfortably under the scientist's stare. "She's highly qualified, Rush. I don't think you'll be disappointed in Miss French. Just give her a chance. With your workload, you could only benefit from her expertise and it will give you the opportunity to spend more time with –"

Rush cursed and glanced down at his watch. "We'll talk about this later …" he muttered under his breath. "Never," he amended, stalking over to his chair and grabbing his jacket. He didn't so much as nod to Belle as he hurried to the stairs. "I don't need an assistant," he growled and stormed out of the door.

Stanton sighed and perched a hip against the desk, pinching the bridge of his nose with a groan at the pressure building behind his eyes. "I'm sorry, Miss French. As I said, Dr. Rush is not the easiest man to work for."

Belle set her bag down on the chair at the desk and began rolling up her sleeves. "Not to worry, I've dealt with far more difficult employers than him. Can you get me a copy of his schedule by the end of the day?" she asked, taking in the mishmash of papers, folders and general disarray on Rush's desk.

"Wait … you're seriously going to stick around … er … take the job?"

"Of course," she said brightly, offering him a smile. "Was there anything else we needed to discuss?"

"Uh … no, I don't suppose there is," he murmured, surprise coloring his tone. "I'll leave you to your work then. Margaret will email that schedule to you before the end of the day."

Belle watched him go and sighed as she surveyed the amount of work before her. It would be challenging, but she had determination on her side and she wasn't one to back down from a challenge. As long as she could get past having to stamp down on her heart every time she looked at her boss's face. Why did he have to look so much like Gold?

~*~XXX~*~xxx~*~XXX~*~

Nicholas Rush slammed the door of his office behind him and tossed the keys on his desk before dropping heavily into the heavily padded chair with a groan. He raked a hand through his hair and leaned back, trying to keep the steady stream of rioting emotions from overwhelming him. His Gloria was dying and there was nothing he could do about it. Their visit that afternoon to the oncologist had merely put a time limit on his vow of 'til death do us part. He didn't want to think that their lives together would be cut short. It didn't work without her and the anguish and turmoil roiling like live eels in his gut only confirmed that. What would he do without her? How would he go on?

He shouldn't even be back at the university, he admonished himself softly with a curse. He should be at home with Gloria, but it felt like the walls were closing in on him, the fear and helplessness choking off his lungs, driving him away until he could come to terms with the inevitable. If he could lose himself in his work for a while, it should help him to clear his head. He turned to the desk, reaching for his calendar to double check the time of his meeting with Daniel Jackson the next morning and froze as his hand brushed against the cool polished surface. It was gone.

He searched his desk, under journals, test papers and scattered pencils, leaning down to look around the floor as well, in case it had toppled off earlier. Where had he put it? Perhaps he'd brought it to class with him, he mused. The last time it had been misplaced it had been the fault of … his … assistant. No, he thought, rising from his chair and stalking towards the door. She wouldn't have seriously taken the job after he'd adamantly told Stanton that he didn't want her.

A low growl echoed at the back of his throat as he wrenched the door of his classroom open, his eyes searching out the low bowl of the room to find her clacking away at the computer on his desk. He made his way down the stairs, his dark ocher eyes flashing hotly. "What are you doing here?! I expressed to Stanton in no uncertain terms that I would not be taking on another assistant!" he hissed, his voice dripping with derision.

"Good evening, Dr. Rush. I wasn't expecting to see you until tomorrow morning," Belle said by way of greeting as she made a few more clicks of the mouse and pulled the flash drive from the port.

"I wasn't expecting to see you again … ever. Get out! This is _my_ classroom and you have no business being here considering you are not my assistant nor my student."

Her smile faltered just a little. "Well, I can see the rumors about your lovely personality weren't false," she mumbled under her breath as she continued to straighten a stack of folders before her.

"What did you say to me?" he asked, his voice dangerously low as his eyes narrowed upon her.

The girl sighed as her gaze lifted to his, resignation prominent in their cerulean depths. "Dr. Rush, I am not your enemy. I'm only here to help." She waved an elegant hand over his desk to drive her point home. "And from the amount of work I've accomplished this afternoon and evening, you were more than a little needy. Your system – if you'd like to call it that – is not at all conducive to productivity."

He crossed his arms over his chest and shot her a steely eyed glare. "My _system_ is just fine."

"Hardly," she insisted. "You have no sense of filing, your calendar is filled with missed appointments that you were forced to reschedule, your lesson plans are somewhat decent - though I found several that were incomplete – and don't even get me started on your computer records."

"And I suppose you could do so much better. I do not need some eighteen year old freshman to come in here and tell me they know how to do my job more efficiently than I," he growled, stepping up to the front of the desk, the piece of furniture the only thing stopping him from throttling her.

She hummed her displeasure as she regarded him steadily. "I'm twenty four, have my masters in astrophysics and am doing undergraduate studies and trying to earn my doctorate … hardly a freshman, Dr. Rush." She turned her back on him and marched over to the coffee machine he kept in the corner of the room. "Coffee?"

"Miss –" he began, only to get sidetracked by the aroma of the blessed brew filling the air as she poured. "Uh …"

Belle didn't give him a chance to answer, carrying the styrofoam cup over to him. He took it, still scowling at her. She moved back to the desk and proceeded to go through the stack she'd prepared for him. "I've filed away your journals and such in the filing cabinet in your office – which was a nightmare, by the way – but not to worry, I shall get to it." She handed him a stack of five folders. "Here are your revised lesson plans. I took the liberty of completing the ones you'd left unfinished." She thrust a small book at him. "I marked the papers that were buried under there and posted the grades." Another book was thrust into the steadily growing pile in his arms. "This is your new appointment calendar. I've done away with that dinosaur you had on your desk and put everything in here. You will receive email alerts on your phone three hours previous to each appointment and then again one hour in advance. That should cut down on missed meetings. Your answering machine was a bloody disaster. From now on, all your calls will come directly to me so that I can co-ordinate your schedule and when I'm in class they can go to your machine for me to address later."

"Miss French –"

"I took pics of your whiteboards and made a backup on this flash," onto the pile it went, "and I should be able to clean up the rest of your computer files before the end of the week."

"Miss French –"

She grabbed a sticky note off the desk and jotted something down that he couldn't quite see between juggling his coffee and the stack of paraphernalia she'd thrust upon him. She grinned cheekily as she reached out and slapped it to his forehead. "That's my number. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to call."

His mouth fell open in stunned disbelief as she grabbed her purse and set off up the stairs, only the faint scent of her perfume on the air showing she'd been there. He took his seat and dropped the folders to the desk, staring at the door, wondering what the hell had just happened. He grumbled beneath his breath as he began to sift through it all. He couldn't deny that she was efficient. He sat back in his chair and glared at the door again. Bossy little thing, she was, but none of his other assistant's had ever been able to do what she'd done there today in the space of – he glanced at his watch – six hours.

Rush sat back in his chair and sipped at the coffee she'd made, his eyes rolling back in pleasure. What the hell had she done to his coffee? She'd changed that too and he had to admit it was better than the swill he was used to, if not the best he'd ever had. Though he'd never tell her that. That right there was enough for him to consider giving her a chance. Perhaps she'd make it longer than a week … maybe.

~*~XXX~*~xxx~*~XXX~*~

Belle was trembling as she let herself into her one bedroom flat and tossed her keys onto the small table next to the door. Her troubled gaze rose to the mirror hanging on the wall above the table and she frowned, taking in the paleness of her skin and the subtle lines of fatigue about her eyes. She kicked off her shoes and made her way into the kitchen, taking a glass from the cupboard and pouring a bit of wine from the half empty bottle in the refrigerator.

Her thoughts wandered back to Gold as she took a hearty sip. He was always at the forefront of her mind and to see his likeness thrust at her today in the form of the acerbic Dr. Nicholas Rush brought the pain back to her chest with a vengeance. A lone tear slipped down her cheek to splash onto her hand, followed by another and another until she was curled up on the linoleum sobbing out her heartache. Fate was a cruel mistress and apparently she didn't like Belle at all well.

How was she supposed to work with that man – who clearly didn't want her – if she had to look at Gold's face to do so? He was rude, uncompromising, distrustful … everything Gold had been. She gulped down her wine, draining the glass and setting it beside her as she wrapped her arms about herself to hold her fragile measure of control together. Even her façade of shy and timid student had slipped in his presence. He challenged a part of her that she'd thought she'd buried long ago when she'd lost the love of her life and left Storybrooke, but it had come rushing back to the fore. If he didn't have her removed from the building when she reported for work in the morning it would be a miracle.

Belle dragged herself off the floor of the kitchen and trudged into the bathroom, a hot shower being what she needed then to wash away the stress of the day and the memories it had invoked. She needed to come to terms with what hand fate had dealt her. This job was too important to her academic career to let his face stand in the way of her succeeding. He might not want her, but he would just have to deal with it. She wasn't going to let her past prevent her from moving forward. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad … maybe.

 **A/N: Ok I thought I would fulfill this prompt while I'm working on chapter 19 of Another Chance. I wanted to get you all some Rushbelle goodness while you're waiting. I don't foresee posting on time as I'm still working on the chapter, but I hope this will make the wait a little easier. *love and hugs, my lovelies***


	2. Scotch and Late Night Ramblings

**A/N: I know it's been two months since I've posted a chapter of Another Chance. I promise I am diligently working on an update for you all :D In the interim, I wanted to write this little ficlet to entertain you all. PartyintheTARDIS12 requested it. This story takes place about a year and a half after Belle became his assistant and four months after his wife's death. I hope you all enjoy!**

Scotch and Late Night Ramblings

The Science building was dark, the hours for classes long since come and gone. The professors who usually worked late had given up on their work to find their way home to their families, locking up behind them. The doorways along the corridor resembled eyes of a shadowy beast and sent a shiver skating eerily along Belle's spine as she hurried to Dr. Rush's office. Her sky high patent leather pumps – chosen more to complement the white button down and black pencil skirt she wore, than anything resembling practicality – clicked loudly in the silence.

 _Just one more task, you silly girl, and then you'll be free to return to your apartment across the quad and past the commons._ She was lucky to have secured the flat in the somewhat quiet building. Thanks to the money Gold had provided for her, she didn't have to share it with a roommate. For that small convenience, she was more than grateful. She shifted her bag on her shoulder and rearranged her hold on the stack of papers in her arms. She couldn't think about Gold right now. Only when it was dark and the blankets on her bed were wrapped tightly around her would she allow herself to give in to the weight of her memories and the grief that still plagued her.

Belle shook her head as she noticed the feeble light shining behind the glass of Rush's office door with his name emblazoned in bold black letters. As many times as he'd slammed that door, she was surprised the glass hadn't shattered. His temper had only grown worse over the last several months since his wife had succumbed to the cancer she'd battled for so long. She was no stranger to the grief that seemed to consume his every waking thought, the blame that could crush your soul and leave you gasping for breath _. If only_ _…_ _what if_ _…_ _if I'd done this differently_ _…_ _if I'd tried harder_ _…_

She cursed under her breath as she reached for the door and her bag shifted to the crook of her elbow, nearly toppling the stack of papers in her arms. It was a constant with her, however. Even Rush had commented on it more than once, asking why she carried it everywhere. It was the constant state of preparedness which kept her sane. The rucksack was larger than average, but it contained necessities, clothes, things she couldn't live without in case she needed to run again. She shook off her melancholy, hoping it wouldn't be needed for a long time. She was somewhat happy at Berkeley … which had nothing to do with her cantankerous boss, she thought with a firm nod. Nothing whatsoever!

Belle picked her way through the outer office – which belonged to her – relieving herself of her burdensome pack as she shoved it beneath her desk with the toe of her shoe and breathing a sigh of relief. She checked the messages on the answering machine and rifled through her appointment calendar, amending the meeting time with the dean of students for the following week. It was easy work on top of her own studies for her doctorate. Rush didn't argue overmuch anymore about the way she 'handled' his life. Her organizational skills bordered on OCD, but even he had to admit she made his life easier.

Making certain everything was in order on her desk, she switched off the lamp and picked up the stack of papers once more before turning to the door to his inner sanctum. He had the largest corner office in the Science building, a coup he liked to lord over the other professors. It was no wonder he didn't have any friends. _Colleagues, Miss French,_ he liked to correct her. She was surprised he had given them that much respect. She wrinkled her nose as she opened the door and the smell of cigarette smoke assailed her.

It took her a moment to find him in the room. The collection of bookshelves which lined the walls at the front cast dark shadows on the Persian rug and the two small sofas, a coffee table resting between them. His massive oak desk was situated off to the left before the long row of windows. The blinds were shut on all but one window, where moonlight filtered in to offer its meager light. He was slumped low in his chair, a bottle of his favorite scotch whiskey resting on the desk at his elbow and a lit cigarette clenched between the fingers of his right hand, its wispy smoke curling up towards the ceiling.

Belle marched across the wide space, stepping over several dry erase markers littering the floor. One of his white boards was lying on its side and she could only assume his calculations that evening hadn't been what he'd expected. She set the stack of graded test papers atop his desk and snatched the cigarette from his hand, stubbing it out in the crystal ashtray.

"I was smoking that," he growled, his narrowed ocher eyes flashing hotly in her direction. It took a moment for his gaze to focus on her, his lip curling up into a sneer when he recognized her. He poured himself another drink as his little assistant scurried about the room opening windows and turning on the air purifier she'd lugged up three flights of stairs and set in a corner. "Shoulda known it was you," he slurred. "Nosy little termagant."

"Dr. Rush, you've already been reprimanded twice for smoking in your office. I don't think the dean will take kindly to a third offense," she said over her shoulder as she pulled the blinds up on a third window and threw it open. The breeze which filtered in was refreshing and cool and at this late hour, the sounds from the quad were muted and soft.

"He can piss off!" he snarled, tossing back the drink and slamming the tumblr onto his desk with more force than was absolutely necessary. "They can all hang."

"How much have you had to drink?" she asked, grinding her teeth as she reached for the bottle and he snatched it away, cradling it to his chest. He was a snapping snarling beast and it was hard for her to suppress the urge to roll her eyes at his antics.

"None of your …" hiccup "business."

She crossed her arms over her chest as she rested her hip on the side of his desk, looking down her nose at him in irritation. "Dr. Rush, you have to stop doing this to yourself. I'm worried about you." She reached out and laid her hand atop his and he jerked away.

"I don't need your pity. I never wanted you here in the first place …" hiccup, "… if you'll recall."

Her own cerulean eyes narrowed to pinpoints of disdain. "As if you'd let me forget." She pushed off of his desk and wrestled the bottle out of his hands, dancing lightly out of his reach. He heaved himself out of his chair to give chase and swayed unsteadily on his feet. He'd barely taken one step towards her when she tossed the half empty bottle of expensive alcohol out the window.

"Are ye bloody insane, woman!" he yelled, causing her to wince at the volume. She refused to acknowledge that his lilting brogue sent little sparks of electricity tripping along her spine and out to places she didn't even want to ponder. It had been too long since she'd allowed herself to desire anyone, apparently.

"I must be to continue working for your sorry ass," she grumbled.

He tripped his way to the window and looked down, his unfocused gaze finding the bottle upended in the hedge. He turned his accusing stare on her as she moved about the room, setting it to rights before she collected his jacket and returned to the desk to find his keys. "You're fired," he hissed menacingly.

"Pfft!" She waved his comment off and held the jacket up for him to slip his arms into the sleeve. "What's that? The fourth time this month?"

"I'm bloody well serious this time!"

"Of course you are," she replied in a dry tone. "Come on, Rush, let's get you home. You need to eat something and sleep in your own bed instead of the couch in your office."

She caught him in her arms as he stumbled, dropping the jacket as she fought to hold him up. Finally, he caught his balance and leaned away from her a bit, his hands wrapped loosely about her shoulders. His face fell at the mention of the home he'd shared for so long with Gloria. "I don't want to go back there."

Belle's lips parted on a soft gasp as tears gathered at the corners of his eyes, his shaggy mane hiding his features as his head dipped forward. "Rush," she whispered softly, her hands rubbing soothing circles over his back. "You can't continue to do this to yourself. If you won't go home, won't you at least come to stay with me? Just for tonight?"

Rush nodded against her shoulder, his soft hair tickling her cheek. He just didn't have the strength any longer to fight her. He kept his gaze on her as he slipped his arms into his jacket and leaned heavily on her as she led him out of his office. He groaned as they passed the hedge where the now empty bottle of scotch had landed. "Bloody good waste of alcohol, Miss French," he murmured.

"I'd rather see it kill the foliage than have it destroy your liver," she snarked, tightening her hold around his waist as they followed the familiar path to her flat. She was nearly out of breath and more than ready to be out from under his weight, but she couldn't have in good conscience just left him there to wallow in his despair.

He let go of her long enough to let her fish her keys out of her rucksack and open the door. She flipped on the lights and winced at the bright overhead light in her small foyer. A lamp was burning electricity in the small living room and he didn't have the shield his eyes as much as he took in the mismatched furniture, the sofa and overstuffed chair having seen better days. It was the overflowing bookshelf that captured his attention, each volume crammed onto the shelves appearing to be well cared for. There was no TV or stereo, which was surprising for one so young.

She led him into the kitchen and flipped the light on over the stove, ignoring the overhead light in deference to his throbbing head. "What would you like, Rush?" she asked, rummaging through her refrigerator to see what she had in the way of leftovers or ingredients to make a sandwich at the very least. "I have some vegetable lo mein left over from last night, some mushroom alfredo from the night before … or I can make you a turkey sandwich if you prefer?"

"I don't feel so well …" he groaned. He hurriedly rose to his feet and made a dash to the small bathroom he'd noticed on their way in. Belle followed him in time to watch him dive head first into the commode. The fumes from the whiskey he'd drunk nearly had her stomach churning, but she breathed through her mouth and knelt beside him, holding his hair away from his face.

When he'd lost the entire contents of his stomach, murmuring something nearly incoherent about his shoes, she pressed a cool cloth to his face and crooned gently to ease him through his suffering. "It's alright, now. I'll take care of you." After sitting with him for long moments on the cool tiles of her bathroom floor she asked, "Feeling better?"

Rush lifted his head from his hands and cast her a baleful glare. "No."

Belle helped him up and chewed thoughtfully at her lower lip as they made their way back to the kitchen. "When was the last time you ate, Rush?" she asked, reaching for a loaf of bread and popping a few slices into the toaster. She filled the kettle with water and pulled out the fixings for tea as she waited him to answer, but he merely shrugged. "You've got to stop this. Do you really think Gloria would want you to waste away to nothing?"

"You know nothing of what Gloria would want!"

"I know she loved you with her whole heart, Nicholas!" she yelled right back at him, losing her temper in the face of his scathing retort. "I spent enough time with her over the last year to know she wouldn't want you to kill yourself with drink and work and this obsession you have to numb yourself against the pain instead of mourning her as her memory deserves!"

Rush gaped at her as she turned to the whistling kettle and poured water into a china teapot on a tray with two mismatched cups. She spread butter and strawberry jam on the toast and set it before him without saying the words he knew were teetering just behind her teeth. "I'm sorry I snapped at you," he mumbled quietly as he bit into the flavorful snack.

Belle nodded, silently accepting his apology as she poured them each a cup of tea.

"You do know that cup has a chip in it, right?"

She lifted her eyes to his briefly, wide blue orbs hiding behind the thick black frames of her glasses. "Yes, I do."

"You're going to cut your lip," he warned, brushing crumbs from his hands as he finished off the last of his toast and reached for the cup she'd poured for him, sipping gingerly at the steaming brew.

He wondered if the university was paying her enough to be his assistant. She'd been with him longer than any of the other poor sods who'd taken on the position. Really, they should be paying her a fortune to put up with him. She shouldn't have to drink from a chipped tea cup. He sighed and continued to drink his tea. The aromatic amber liquid warmed him, chasing away some of the effects of the whiskey, and the toast had helped to settle his stomach.

In the past four months since Gloria's passing, he'd been a beast. He couldn't go back to his house … not with the memory of their life together haunting him in every corner. Most times, he would send Belle to the sprawling ranch style house to fetch things he needed, comfortable in his office. The worst days were when he'd find himself in class in the middle of a lecture and he'd remember his grief. More and more he'd simply stop and stride out of the classroom, leaving Belle to apologize and dismiss them early. Those same students had stopped coming to him for help with their studies or whatever problems they were having with the course. Everyone went through Belle. She was sweet and kind and possessed the sunniest disposition he'd ever seen. It was sometimes nauseating, especially after a night of nothing but his thoughts and more than a wee bit of scotch.

She was right, though. He worked until he dropped, he didn't eat, didn't sleep and his health was going to suffer for it. Gloria wouldn't have wanted that for him. It barely registered on him when Belle plucked the cup from his hands and helped him to stand. Sleep was looking better and better after the day he'd had. His sweet little assistant dragged him along behind her to the flat's single bedroom.

Pausing in the doorway, he stared at her, dumbfounded. "What are you doing?" he slurred, his voice filled with confusion and the effects of too much drink.

Belle simply smiled and tugged a bit harder on his hand. "I'm putting you to bed, Rush. I would think that was obvious." She felt him stiffen beneath her fingers as they went to work pushing his jacket off of his shoulders and slipping the buttons of his shirt through their holes. "You need at least one night not passed out on the sofa in your office or slumped over your desk."

His eyes flitted over to the bed with its bright blue duvet and a quilt she must have gotten from a yard sale. It was soft and inviting … too inviting. His precarious balance was lost as she backed him into the edge of the mattress, causing him to bounce hard as he landed on his backside. She didn't seem to be worried as she knelt before him and removed his boots and socks.

The breath froze in his lungs, however, as she hoisted him back to his feet and reached for his belt. "This … you can't … Miss French!" he sputtered as she slapped his hands away and continued with her task. The only sign of her discomfort was the rosy blush which tinted her cheeks. "You don't have to do this."

It was his turn to flush bright red as she pushed his jeans down over his hips and helped him to step out of the stiff dark blue denim, leaving him in the black silk boxers clinging to his hips. "I know that, but you need me, Rush. Whether or not you care to admit it, you'd be lost without me. Now cease with your blushing sensibilities and let me take care of you."

Belle pulled back the duvet and the soft cotton top sheet and eased him onto the bed. She brushed the hair away from his brow as she tucked him in. Startled, she looked down at the hand which reached out to curl around her wrist. He met her questioning gaze through heavy lids. "Don't leave me … please, Belle. Stay."

All good intentions to sleep on the couch fled in the face of his need. It had been a long time since she'd noted his resemblance to Gold, so she couldn't use that reasoning for the way her heart clenched. He was Dr. Nicholas Rush, her boss, her mentor … her friend. He surely wouldn't acknowledge that title, but she couldn't help the way she felt in her heart. He was a part of her life. The only part that kept her grounded in California. The only reason she hadn't run again. "Let me change my clothes, ok. Five minutes."

He nodded and slowly loosened his grip. She was back in three, teeth brushed, hair combed out of its severe bun and wearing a bright blue tank top paired with soft cotton pajama pants, white with the imprint of little cauldrons and witches hats. It had been a gag gift from Gold many years ago. They were threadbare by now, but she couldn't seem to let them go.

Rush turned over on his side to face her as she slid under the blankets next to him. He took her hand in his, clinging to it like a lifeline as he closed his eyes. The ache in her chest only grew as he closed his eyes and a single tear leaked from the corner, his breath stuttering in his chest as if it were painful to draw the air into his lungs.

"It was my fault." His voice was barely a whisper, his brogue thick with emotion and pain and loss until he was nearly choking with it. "Gloria … it was my fault."

"Oh, Rush, no … no it wasn't. You can't blame yourself for her death," Belle protested, reaching around behind his nape and digging her fingers into his tightly clenched muscles. It wasn't often she touched him in the course of a day, but she found she couldn't resist in her need to comfort him. She rather thought he'd object if she pulled him into her arms.

His dark sable gaze pierced her at the first touch of her hand, but he didn't push her away. "It was, Belle. I should have been there for her. I abandoned her for my work. I couldn't deal with the thought of losing her," he whispered brokenly, self-loathing evident in his tone.

"Rush, stop, please. You were there for every doctor's appointment, every chemo treatment, every radiation therapy. You were at her side when she needed you most. How can you –"

"Physically maybe, but never without my notebook so I could continue working." He was desperate to unburden himself of the guilt. He could still feel the effects of the scotch, and would probably remember nothing come morning. It was the coward's way out to confess his sins without having to face them in the bright light of day. "My mind wasn't with her. I buried myself in my work when I should have listened to her … really listened. Now I just want to hear her voice one more time. Now … now I would give anything if I could just hold her in my arms and tell her how much I loved her."

Belle rested her hand on his unshaven cheek and brushed at his tears with the pad of her thumb. "She knew you loved her, Nicholas. She knew," she whispered, unable to hold back her own tears.

"How do you know?" he mumbled, leaning into her touch, allowing himself that small measure of comfort she so easily offered.

"I lost someone too," she admitted, her own pain heavy in her eyes. "I know what it's like to have someone you love ripped away from you before it's time. It's so hard, but you can't just give up. They wouldn't want us to. We have to go on. We have to find a way to live without them. Nicholas, she didn't begrudge you your work. She knew how important it was to you … how important it will be to mankind if you succeed in solving the mystery of the ninth chevron. You can't give up." She squeezed his hand. "I won't let you. I won't lose you too."

He studied her silently for long moments as his tears dried, leaving salty trails over his skin. "Why … why do you care?"

She smiled sadly, drying her own eyes on her pillow. "You're my friend, Rush. Why do you think I haven't let you fire me?"

Rush frowned at her, his lips parted in surprise before they curled up into a sarcastic smirk. "Well, it can't be for my winning personality."

"Go to sleep. Tomorrow's Saturday so you don't have to worry about class or meetings or equations." She traced the furrows on his brow, her fingertips easing them away as he relaxed. "Rest, Rush. Just let yourself rest."

She laid awake until his breathing evened out and the tension he carried around eased from his body. She pulled the coverlet up over his bare shoulder and brushed the hair away from his face. Staring at him, she realized he'd probably hate her in the morning, hate her because of his late night confessions, but she couldn't find it in herself to care. He'd taken a chance and let her in. In return, he'd wedged himself a little more firmly into her heart. Instead of pushing him away as she'd done so often to people in her life, she held him close. It wouldn't be so easy to run again if she had him to cling to and what scared her most was the fact that she didn't want to run if she had to leave him behind.

X*X*X*X*X

Rush groaned as the last vestiges of sleep fled, leaving him with a thousand tiny hammers chipping away at his brain matter. The only comfort was the warm body molded against his back. _Body?_ He cracked open one eye and lifted the small hand draped over his bare chest, instantly recognizing the glittery blue nail polish on her short nails. He froze as the events of the previous evening rushed back with stunning clarity. _Bloody fucking hell!_

Belle slung a leg over his hip and nuzzled softly against the nape of his neck, sending a fresh wave of panic barreling like a freight train through him. His cock twitched happily in his silk boxers as her soft breasts pressed into his back. _No, no, no, no, no!_ The word chanted across his mind. _I do not want my assistant. She's done nothing but help me, and I will not sully her by lusting after her. No! It's just a normal reaction to waking up in bed with a beautiful woman,_ he tried to reason with himself. He lifted her arm and moved it away as he tried as gently as possible to slide out from under her slender thigh. _Stop thinking about it, damnit!_

The delectable Miss French sat up with a gasp, her breathing rapid in her panic as she became fully aware of their position. "Oh, Rush, I'm sorry!" she sputtered as she bolted from the bed. "I didn't mean to … I can't help my actions when I'm sleeping … accident!"

He sat up on the side of the bed and instantly dropped his head into his hands to fight off a wave of nausea. "It's ok, Miss French. There's no harm done." He bunched up the blankets in his lap so she wouldn't take note of his state of arousal. He berated himself for his body's reaction when his wife was barely cold in the ground.

"How's your head?" she asked, her fingers twisting as she fidgeted nervously.

He cringed at her soft tone. "It feels like Thor's mighty hammer is pounding away at it," he admitted ruefully.

She left the room without another word, leaving him alone abruptly. He'd barely managed to fasten the button on his jeans when she returned with two aspirin and a full glass of water. "Here, Dr. Rush, this might help."

She went into the bathroom and wet a cloth with cool water, bathing his face with it. "You can sleep longer if you like … while I make breakfast?"

"You don't have to go to any trouble on my account, Miss French."

"Nonsense," she scoffed. "You could use a good meal. Do you like mushrooms? I think I have the fixings for an omelet…"

"Miss French –"

"… and you can either sleep more or take a shower or whatever. I'm not used to having company, but it's ok. I'm sorry I don't have any fresh clothes for you here, but –"

"Miss French," he growled cutting her off from her rambling. "It's fine." He lifted his bloodshot gaze to her and smiled faintly. She was a lovely shade of pink, vulnerable in her pajamas with her hair tousled about her shoulders. "Breakfast would be wonderful, thank you."

He was showered and groomed as well as could be expected in his rumpled day old clothes when he joined her in her small kitchen and tucked into the western omelet and buttered toast she set before him. She'd found time to change and hide once more behind her glasses and severe hairstyle. He frowned as he realized he much preferred her softer look. They ate in silence until it became more than he could bear.

"I want to thank you for you hospitality, Miss French."

She waved him off. "My pleasure. I'm just glad you finally got a decent night's sleep," she said with a soft smile.

"Yeah, about that," he mumbled. "I've come to a decision. I want to sell the house."

Her fork clattered to her plate and sent bits of egg flying. "I beg your pardon?"

"I want to sell the house," he repeated. "There are too many memories. As my assistant, I expect you to contact a realtor and see what I need to do to begin the process. I also want to look into something a bit smaller, not too far from campus as I'll still be spending most of my time there."

Belle hurriedly reached for her phone from the pocket of her cardigan and pulled up the app she used to keep track of his appointments, quickly making notes. "Are you sure, Dr. Rush?"

"You were right … last night when you said I couldn't continue to drown myself in grief. It will always be there, but the best way I can honor her memory is to go on." He sighed and finished off his breakfast.

"Is there anything else you'd like me to take care of today?" she asked, hiding her satisfied smile behind a serious look.

"No. Miss French … thank you."

"For what?"

"For being there for me last night, for making me see I was …"

"Stubborn, pig-headed and self-destructive?"

He arched a brow at her, his lips pressing into a thin line of irritation. "Yes, that. Would you please let me thank you properly without your thinly veiled disdain? Hm?"

"Sorry," she grinned sheepishly. "Do continue."

"I'm sorry I've been a –"

"Grumbling cantankerous douchebag?"

"Miss French!"

"Sorry!" She bit her lip to hold back a laugh, mumbling under her breath, "It's true though."

"What was that?"

"Nothing," she replied innocently.

He cast her a dubious glare and crossed his arms over his chest, sitting back in his chair. "I will not be trying to fire you any longer. You've proven you will go above and beyond the call of duty, and I find I truly _want_ you as my assistant."

Her brows shot up into her hairline. "Really?"

"Really," he affirmed. "I think we can find a way to co-exist without killing each other and …" he paused, the words sticking in his throat. "I don't have friends, Miss French, I have acquaintances, colleagues, peers. I don't trust easily … but I will try … for you, if that is what you want."

Belle reached over and rested her hand on his forearm, giving it a reassuring squeeze and ignoring the way he stiffened slightly at her touch. "Rush, I've always been your friend … from the very beginning. You just couldn't see it. I'm not going to abandon you. I'm going to stand by your side and continue to work with you and eventually we'll _both_ succeed."

He didn't know what to say, never having had anyone feel as passionately about his work as he did. He held out his hand and clasped hers gently. He could see firm determination in her gaze and it made him realize with her at his side, it just might be possible. "Here's to a successful partnership."

Belle grinned devilishly. "No, Rush … here's to friendship and working together for the greater good."

He watched her clear away their dishes and smiled faintly, feeling the tightness in his chest ease for the first time in months.


	3. I Won't Go Without Her

I Won't Go Without Her

"Come on, Nick, we really want you on the project."

Nicholas glanced up at his colleague … acquaintance … friend. He really didn't know how to sum up his relationship with Daniel Jackson. He only knew he could tolerate the man more than most. He chewed on the end of the dry erase marker as he consulted his notebook. "I'm already on the project, Daniel. I have been for two years."

"That's not what I meant and you know it," the SGC scientist growled in frustration, crossing his arms over his chest.

Rush smirked and continued his work, refusing to discuss the issue further. He did, however, feel the need to tell Daniel once more, "I'll not go without her."

"Nick, I know you think she's brilliant, but it's going to be a bitch getting her cleared," he said, losing his usually unflappable temper. "As it is, if the SGC knew she'd been working on the proof with you, they'd have my head."

"She doesn't know what it's for," Nicholas said defensively. "She believes it's just a theory I'm working on."

"Regardless …"

Nicholas tossed his leonine head, flicking his hair out of his eyes as he turned to face the man. "Miss French is invaluable to my research. I can't see completing it without her, therefore, if you want me to become more involved, she has to be cleared to come with me."

"Why do you have to be so difficult?"

Rush grinned. Belle had called him names much worse than that over the course of their relationship. "I don't know why you're fighting me on this, Daniel. You know Belle is more than competent if I trusted her enough to involve her in the first place."

"Dr. Rush! You have class in five minutes!" Belle stormed through his office door, her arms laden with graded test papers he would be handing back to his students that morning. A to-go cup of his favorite coffee was clutched in her hand, the thick aroma of 100% Columbian tantalizing in the stuffy room. "Oh, Dr. Jackson," she exclaimed, stuttering to a halt. "I hadn't realized you were still here."

Rush took the cup from her and effectively cut off Daniel before he could reply. "Miss French, I won't be able to make class this morning. Would it be too much to ask that you fill in for me?"

Her brows rose, disappearing beneath a thick swath of chestnut curls which covered her brow. It wasn't like her to look so windswept, but he couldn't find it in himself to be sorry. She was beautiful, even with the dark frames of her glasses hiding her lovely cerulean eyes. "Um … certainly," she agreed after a moment's hesitation. "Did you want me to pick up where you left off with your lecture yesterday or begin the new material on Cooper's pairing in the theory of superconductivity?"

"You may finish my lecture. God knows you know the subject matter as well as I do."

Belle flushed with pleasure at his praise and nodded. "Anything else?"

"No, just hand back their papers and if you have enough time after the lecture –"

" – make sure to voice your displeasure over their sloppy, ill-conceived answers and test scores?" she teased. He arched a brow and smirked, just a small sign that he was pleased with her. "Very well, Dr. Rush. I've got to run if I'm going to make it," she called over her shoulder as she dashed for the door. "See you after class! Bye, Daniel!"

"You're letting her _teach_ your classes?" Daniel asked in amazement. He knew how meticulous Rush was about his job. "I thought she was your assistant."

Nicholas capped the marker and set it on his desk as he shoved his notebook into the back pocket of his jeans and smoothed a hand over his navy button down. "Come with me," he said evasively, gesturing for the man to follow. "You need to see her in action. You know already that I never wanted an assistant in the first place, but Miss French has made herself an invaluable part of my life."

Daniel looked at him with surprise. From everything he'd ever known about Nicholas Rush, the one thing that stood out most vividly was his desire to work alone. That was one reason it puzzled him so much that Rush was refusing his dream assignment if he had to leave his assistant behind. There had to be more there than what the physicist was telling him.

Rush led him to the door he usually used to enter his classroom, cracking it open just enough so Daniel could have a clear view of Belle at the front of the auditorium and hear her clearly as she picked up his lecture where he'd left off the previous day. He leaned against the wall, one ear tuned to Belle's clear lilting tone while he continued to scratch out more calculations in his notebook.

It didn't take long for Daniel to become fascinated by her, just as Rush had been the first time he allowed her to spread her wings and take over for him. He looked up sharply, his ears pricking with interest as she changed the end of his lecture to reflect her own views. One student in particular, immediately called her on it. "That isn't what the textbook –"

Another student, "Dr. Rush said –"

His lips curled into a smile of supreme satisfaction as she shot them both down and gave a clear concise argument on why she felt the way she did. Daniel turned to stare at him in awe. "Where the hell did you find this girl? She's brilliant."

"I tried to tell you."

Daniel scowled at his friend's smug tone as he closed the door and headed back to his office, leaving Daniel to follow. "Perhaps I was a bit hasty."

"A bit?"

"Ok, a lot."

Nicholas gave him a level look. "I'm sure I don't have to remind you of what it was like before you were brought onto the stargate project, Daniel. It changed your life. Well I want to change hers, so I suggest you get started on securing her clearance if you want me to take on the position of lead scientist on this project."

Daniel watched him go. Oh yeah, there was definitely something more going on with Rush. He just hoped he had the patience to find out.

X*X*X*X*X

"Who the hell stole my last two watermelon Jolly Ranchers!?" Belle fumed, glancing venomously at the open door which led into Rush's office. "They were in the bowl on my desk this morning when I stopped in to check your calendar and now they're gone!" She stormed into his office, frazzled, sleep-deprived, and in no mood for petty games with her boss. Surprise brought her up short as her eyes landed on the man standing in front of the white boards seemingly lost in the miasma of calculations written here. "Dr. Jackson … I wasn't aware you had an appointment today."

"Uh … I didn't. I just stopped by to see Rush for a few moments." He grinned sheepishly at her. "And I was the one who raided your candy bowl. Sorry."

Belle's face flamed to the roots of her hair, not having expected the scientist to be the candy thief, nor to hear her voice her displeasure so loudly. She was certain the culprit had been one of Rush's students come to speak with her about any one of the numerous complaints they had with the course. "Sorry about my outburst. I just seem to have an affinity towards those particular candies. They help me concentrate," she admitted ruefully.

"Well it's better than some addictions I've seen over the years," the man smiled, his blue eyes twinkling.

"Can I help you with something, Dr. Jackson?" she asked warily. He was being entirely too pleasant, something that never boded well where the scientists of her acquaintance were concerned. Where was Rush?

Daniel smiled. "Actually, yes. I happened to catch part of your lecture when you filled in for Dr. Rush last week and I thought perhaps you'd like to have dinner with me to discuss your theory."

Belle arched a brow at him, tilting her head to the side to regard him steadily. She'd had quite a few men ask her out over the years since she'd left Storybrooke, but none who'd been interested in her intellectual pursuits. Still … "I'm sorry, Dr. Jackson, but I have a previous engagement," she said amiably.

"When might you be free?" he persisted.

"I'm not."

"Surely you have to eat sometimes, Miss French."

Belle's eyes darkened with ire. _Crap! This one's not going to give up._ She decided long ago that if she were to go out to dinner with anyone, it would be Rush. He was the only man with whom she felt at ease. "Dr. –"

The office door closed behind her and she turned to see the very man she'd been thinking of. "She will join us this evening for dinner, Daniel." He gave her a look that brooked no objection as he moved to his desk to relieve himself on his jacket. "I'm sure you can reschedule your 'previous engagement'," Nicholas said. "Dress nicely. We're going to Bruno's."

Belle glared at him hotly, but didn't argue. "What time?"

"I'll pick you up at seven."

X*X*X*X*X

Belle glared at Rush as she opened the door of her apartment at seven on the dot. He was a stickler for punctuality … when he could drag himself away from the white board in his office. "I'm extremely angry with you," she hissed, pulling the door shut and locking the deadbolt before taking his proffered arm.

"You look beautiful this evening, Miss French."

"Flattery will not score you any brownie points, Rush … but thank you," she grumbled as he led her to his car out in the small parking lot.

"Would you care to tell me why you're upset with me?" he asked, opening the passenger door of the Camry so she could slide in. She looked fetching in her simple black sheath dress with its high neck and open back.

She held her silence until he'd started the car and pulled onto the road. "What would possess you to accept a dinner invitation on my behalf and then invite yourself along? It's absurd … and presumptuous … and RUDE!"

Rush snorted. "Miss French, I assure you Dr. Jackson isn't interested in you that way. He simply wants to hear your thoughts on this theory of yours."

Her eyes narrowed to slits as she glowered at him. "What aren't you telling me, Rush? I know you know and you're hedging because you don't want me to know, but when don't I know everything."

"You don't know this."

"And you're not going to tell me, are you?" she persisted.

"Nope," he said, his lips popping on the 'p' as he turned to smirk at her.

"Ugh! Infuriating man!"

Bruno's was a classy little steakhouse near campus they frequented often, it being Belle's favorite. She knew he'd chosen it because she couldn't pass up an opportunity to sample the cuisine. Daniel was already waiting for them in the bar and the hostess wasted no time showing them to the table Rush had reserved for them.

"You look lovely, Miss French," the scientist said as he took his seat across from her, leaving Nicholas to sit to her right. Belle smiled tightly and reached for her water glass. They made small talk – which Belle didn't know Rush was even capable of – until after they'd placed their orders and wine had been poured. Their appetizers had been finished and their entrees had arrived before Belle had finished explaining her theory to Daniel. Rush remained quiet, letting her shine without interruption.

"It only differs slightly from Dr. Rush's own beliefs, and I think it could be implemented in his work on the proof as well as other areas of study," she said, cutting into her sirloin.

"What do you know of the Ancient symbols associated with the proof," he asked, pushing his plate aside and taking a long swallow of his wine.

Belle's eyes lit up with excitement. "I believe they are part of an obscure language, to be honest. I wish I had the time to study them more. Dr. Rush hasn't allowed me much exposure to them, but I find them fascinating."

"Would you be willing to put more time into studying them, maybe take a more active role in the research Nick is doing for us?" Daniel asked.

Belle gaped at him before looking to Rush to see what he would think of his colleague's interest in her interference in his work. "Um … I don't know, Dr. Jackson. When I'm not working on my doctorate, Dr. Rush eats up the remainder of my time. My schedule is full and rewarding right now."

Nicholas leaned forward on his elbows and regarded Daniel with a stoic frown. "Has she been cleared for the project?"

"What project? Rush, what project?" she hissed, but he ignored her.

"We're having a bit of a problem with that. Every time our guys at the Pentagon try to access her records, she disappears and another false record appears in its place." His eyes flickered over to Belle for a moment before returning to his friend. "It's almost as if she were deliberately sending us on a wild goose chase."

Nicholas frowned at his assistant. "Belle?"

"Why do I need clearance?" she asked, avoiding his questioning tone.

"Don't worry, a few more days and we should be able to narrow her down in the system." Daniel signaled for the check. After the bill was paid, he took his leave, assuring Belle he'd be in touch.

Belle didn't say another word until she was once again sitting in Rush's car for the ride home. "What the bloody hell was going on back there. What do I need clearance for? You two act like there's some government conspiracy and I'm being flagged as a terrorist," she fumed.

"No one thinks you're a terrorist, Miss French."

She turned her gaze to the view outside her window as he pulled up before her building and turned off the engine, unable to really focus on anything. Her hands twisted nervously in her lap as dread coiled in her stomach. "Rush, you need to tell me what's going on. I don't want to go to sleep one night and have government agents tearing down my door and dragging me away in the middle of the night."

He snorted as he reached for his door handle, getting out of the car to open the passenger door and help her out of the car. He remembered how to be a gentleman when the occasion warranted. "You've seen too many movies. No one is going to come for you, I promise." He walked with her inside and up two flights of stairs to her door, taking the keys from her when her hands shook too much to unlock the deadbolt. "Would you care to tell me why it's so hard to track you down in the system?"

She crossed the threshold and turned back to look at him. "Are you coming in, or did you want to have this discussion out in the hall so the neighbors can join in?" she snarked, her patience rapidly dwindling. She tossed her clutch and keys on the little table next to the door and headed straight for the kitchen and the unopened bottle of wine in the refrigerator.

"Miss –" he began, but she cut him off as she plunked a glass of the dark red alcohol before him.

"Maybe I have taken steps over the years to prevent someone from finding me, hm? Which is almost a near impossibility now without my permission, so to speak." She gave him a knowing look. "Why is it so important that I be cleared for this mysterious project?"

"I can't tell you," he said, looking down at the wine in his glass as if it held all the answers. "Just know that the project is a dream come true for me. And …" he sighed, lifting his gaze to meet hers, hoping it wouldn't reveal his feelings for her. "… I don't want to do it without you. Belle, I've come to rely on you so much in the past two years. You keep me focused, and without you I would have lost my mind a long time ago." He reached out for her hand, covering it with his own. "I want you to come with me."

Her lips parted in astonishment as she looked into his soft sable eyes. He was exposed to her and what she saw there was more than a little frightening. Rush _needed_ her. How long had it been since someone had actually needed her in such a way, as if she were vital to his existence. Not since Gold. She reached for the pad and pen she kept in the center of her kitchen table and scrawled out a number she rarely gave to anyone.

She hauled in a deep breath, fighting against the nerves that battled in her belly, and slid the paper across the table to him. "Give this to Dr. Jackson. He's going to need it. Otherwise, despite the best techies he has at his disposal, he won't be able to locate my true records."

"What? How is that possible?"

"Let's just say I have some very inventive friends who are good with computers and leave it at that, shall we?"

It was his turn to gape at her as he stared down at the fifteen digit number. Nothing else, just the number. He wondered if she'd give him a straight answer if he asked her outright. Somehow, he didn't think so. She had never been comfortable talking about her past and he didn't want to intrude. Hopefully, one day, she'd bare her soul to him. He loved her enough to wait.

X*X*X*X*X

"Miss French," Nicholas called from the inner sanctum of his office. "Is that you?"

Belle groaned and dropped her rucksack in her chair before setting her stack of textbooks, notes and miscellaneous papers on the edge of her desk in the outer office she'd long ago claimed as her own. She grinned at the extra-large jumbo bag of Jolly Ranchers in the center of the polished surface and the sticky note attached to it.

 _Belle_ _—_

 _Sorry I ate your candies. Hope this makes up for it :D_

 _-Daniel J._

Her grin widened at her new friend's thoughtfulness. In the last two weeks, she'd gotten closer to the scientist as he found more and more excuses to spend time with her and Rush. He'd taken her seriously when she'd expressed an interest in the Ancient symbols and had brought her resource materials for her to study. It was a language all its own and she was slowly learning how to read and write it. Soon she'd be able to speak it fluently. Not that she'd be able to use it in a practical setting, but it was always satisfying to learn something of interest to her. It was rather touching that he'd thought to leave her a gift before heading back to Washington.

"Miss French!"

"I'm coming!" she called back, taking note of the impatience in his tone. She opened the bag of candies and stuffed and handful into the pocket of her cardigan for later. She chose one of the watermelon and moaned happily as the flavor burst over her tongue as she walked through the door and into Rush's chaos. She came to a halt as she noticed the briefcase on his desk which he was rapidly shoving materials into. "What're you doing? Are you going somewhere? I don't have anything penciled in for you today."

"I need you to clear my calendar for the next two days … as well as your own," he said, a genuine smile of pleasure on his face as he looked up at her. "We're leaving tonight to go to Washington."

Her mouth fell open in surprise. "I have a test on thermo dynamics tomorrow, Rush. I can't go to Wash –"

"Yes you can … and you will."

"But –"

"Our flight leaves at seven, so you need to go home and pack after you deal with cancelling my appointments. Actually, just go pack. We can deal with my calendar later."

"Rush!" she exclaimed, running a hand over her brow as she stared at him from behind her glasses. He was entirely too happy about this trip. He hated to travel. What the hell was going on?

"Daniel will be picking us up at the airport and everything has been arranged. We just have to get there," he said, moving to her side and pointing her towards the door. He was nearly manic in his excitement and it was beginning to worry her.

"Have you been dipping into the scotch again?" she asked, dancing out of his reach and stalking back towards his desk to search for an open bottle.

"Of course not!"

She arched a brow at him.

"I promised not to drink alone after the last time and I haven't gone back on my word," he insisted. "Oh come now, Miss French, aren't you excited?"

"Well it might help if I actually knew what I was supposed to be excited about," she remarked in a droll tone.

"Your clearance came through!"

She could see how much this meant to him and she mustered up a smile for him, some of his excitement transferring to her. "I'll have to call Professor Ackerson to see if I can make up the exam, but …" she paused at his expectant look. "Ok. I suppose I can take a few days off."

"Good, now go home and pack. I'll see you in a few hours."

X*X*X*X*X

Belle scowled darkly into her coffee, grimacing at the poor brew she'd been handed as they trekked down another corridor. They all looked the same and her bleary eyes were beginning to water from lack of sleep. She'd gotten little rest on the nine hour flight, partly due to Rush's nervousness, and partly due to the fact that she hated to fly. The last time she'd been in the air, it had been coming back to the States from her stint in the UK. Rush had poked and prodded her back to the land of the living and hauled her by the hand through the terminal where a grinning Daniel Jackson and someone … a Major Peterson? … had ushered them into a black SUV for the ride to the Pentagon.

Who even reported for work at four in the morning? Didn't these people sleep? All she wanted was to go to the hotel, take a shower and sleep for twelve hours. She'd been put through more than one metal detector upon her arrival, x-rays, retina scans and a myriad of other protocols before being handed a security badge with a level five clearance. Ugh, she was tired. Now they were waiting in the inner office of some general … O'Neil, she believed his name was … and she was long past her expiration date.

She sat next to Rush, who couldn't sit still to save his life, his leg bouncing with nervous energy. Her head lolled against his shoulder, unable to hold it up a moment longer. He stilled instantly and looked down at her as she rubbed her cheek against his fine wool jacket. She was asleep – confident Nicholas would watch over her – by the time General Jack O'Neil entered the room.

"Good morning, gentlemen, Miss … Is she asleep?"

Rush nudged Belle gently as he shot the general an apologetic look and rose to shake his hand. "Long flight after a full day."

"Jeez, Rush. I know you never sleep, but I didn't think you deprived your assistant of her own rest," the general chuckled. "Miss French, a pleasure to meet you," he said, shaking her hand as she rose unsteadily to her feet, a mortified blush staining her cheeks.

"General." She yawned widely. "Please excuse me. I hope you might be getting to the point of our visit soon."

Jack looked between Daniel and Rush. "You haven't told her?"

Daniel's grin was sheepish. "I thought it would be better to show her."

After another long walk, down another identical corridor, they drew to a halt before a set of double doors and Daniel beamed at Belle. "Welcome to Stargate Command."

All remnants of fatigue left her as she was led into the cavernous room. It was the size of a large warehouse and teeming with military and civilian personnel, but what drew her gaze and left her in a state of stunned disbelief was the enormous circular device poised on a platform directly in front of her on the other side of the room. She barely heard Daniel as he began to explain the purpose of the program.

Her feet moved of their own volition, carrying her forward until she stood at the bottom of the ramp and surveyed the Ancient symbols carved into the metal of the gate.

"Intergalactic travel … seven symbols … chevrons … the Ancients …"

"There are nine symbols," she murmured, venturing off to the right of the ramp and moving to run her hands over the curvature of the gate, her fingers tracing the carvings with reverence. "Did you say you'd only been able to access eight of the chevrons? Oh gods, this is unbelievable." She whirled about to look at Rush, his grin hidden behind his hand. "Your proof … you're trying to unlock the ninth, aren't you?"

"Yes," Daniel said. "So far we've had no luck locking onto it. We're having power issues as well as problems with the sequence. Nick is our best chance of unlocking the equation, but he refuses to leave the planet unless you agree to go with him."

"Leave the … the planet?" she gasped, feeling her head spin.

"Miss French, are you alright?" Nicholas asked, rushing forward to grab her elbow as she looked as if she were about to faint. "Daniel, fetch her some water, please." He led her to a chair next to one of the consoles set up a few yards from the ramp and lowered her into it.

"I'm fine!" she assured him. "You can't expect me not to be a little overwhelmed by all of this." She took the cup from Daniel and sipped at it slowly, feeling beginning to creep back into her numb fingers. "And you're … we're … supposed to what? Travel to a different planet to continue your research?"

Rush glanced over his shoulder at Daniel and the general. "Could we have a moment, gentlemen?" He turned back to Belle, dropping to one knee before her and clasping her shaking hands in his. "Miss French, I know this is a lot to take in."

She snorted and stared at him incredulously. "You think?"

"This is a chance in a lifetime. I _need_ this, but I can't do it without you. I can't leave you behind and pursue this."

Belle stared down at his hopeful expression and felt her heart clench. Memories assailed her of another time, another place … a choice of whether to stay, or take a chance and go off into an uncertain future. That choice had brought her pain and love and adventure, and she didn't regret it. Now it was time to decide once more. Already her mind was whirling with things she'd need to do before they left. It was easy in the end, unable to bear the thought of holding Rush back from his dreams. He meant too much to her. He was her friend whether he wanted to admit it or not. And there was so much for her to catch up on, background information on the stargate, what was expected of her, and what they needed to do to make it all come together.

She took a deep breath and smiled hesitantly at Rush, hoping that she wasn't going to regret her choice. With him at her side, how could they fail? "I will go with you, Rush. Wherever this leads us, I will go with you."

 **A/N: So** **…** **did you like it? A little insight on how Nicholas refused to go without her and having to explain everything to Belle. I have another one planned soon called 'Icarus' where we'll see them leave on the USS Hammond and set off for the base. I think that one will be fun. Thanks so much for reading. I really hope you all enjoyed it :D**

 **Shoutout to those who reviewed last time: Wondermorena, PartyintheTARDIS12, xanimejunkie, cynicsquest, ladybugsmomma, and Twyla Mercedes.**


	4. Anniversary

Anniversary

Rush's narrow-eyed gaze took in the candidates sent down from Human Resources, his lip curling in disgust. He glanced down at the first file on his desk in the science lab and then up at the gate where Colonel Young and his team were conducting tests. "Riley, make sure you watch the heat ratios please. We don't need another evacuation at the moment."

"Yes, sir, Dr. Rush. The core is holding stable for the time being. We'll shut it down if it spikes too high," Riley answered, continuing to monitor the readouts on his computer.

Nicholas turned his attention back to the open file. Dr. Dale Volker, astrophysicist, degrees from Cal Tech, Berkeley, and one from UCLA. Worked at NASA for three years before being recruited into the SGU. His cold ocher eyes lifted, piercing the man. Volker was practically quaking in his boots. Of course he wanted a position on Rush's team – who wouldn't? – the pay package only slightly less enviable than the knowledge he could glean by working with the cantankerous genius.

"Tell me, Mr. Volker," Rush said, his brogue thick in his irritation, "what you know of quarks."

The man paled, nervous at being directly addressed by the scientist. "Erm … any of a number of subatomic particles carrying a fractional electric charge, postulated as building blocks of the hadrons. Quarks have not been directly observed, but theoretical predictions based on their existence have been confirmed experimentally."

Rush pinched the bridge of his nose and ground his teeth together. "Classic textbook, Mr. Volker," he snarled, again foregoing using the man's proper address. "I wasn't asking for a definition from the bloody dictionary. I wanted to know what you _know_ of them. You hold a doctorate, do you not? Or did you somehow win yours at a frat party?"

The little brunette standing beside the blushing Volker was bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement. With a wave of Rush's hand, she bounded off into a lengthy explanation that had his head aching despite her accuracy and knowledge in her field. While she was speaking, Rush focused on the third folder for a – he squinted down at the name, wishing he hadn't left his glasses in his quarters – Mr. Adam Brody, engineer. He nodded at Dr. Lisa Park and arched a brow at Brody. "Well? Why do you think you should be on my team?"

"I can take apart a power relay in three minutes and have it back together in four more," he answered, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Impressive. But then so can about four others contracted to this base. Why do I need you for _my_ team?" he asked impatiently. He reached over for his coffee cup and frowned blackly at its empty state. "Excuse me, Mr. Brody. Sergeant, where is Miss French?" He scowled up at the clock on the wall over his whiteboard. "She's nearly an hour late."

"She called in this morning, Dr. Rush. I left the message on your desk. Miss French said she's taking a personal day," the sergeant replied.

 _What?! Since when does she take a personal day without running it by me first?_ he growled internally, his gaze so hot it could have set the surface of his desk aflame. _She should be here dealing with the new hires, not me._ He very nearly smacked his face with the heel of his hand. _Shit!_ "Sergeant, what is the date?" he asked, afraid he already knew why his assistant was MIA.

"May eighteenth, sir."

"Damnit." He stared glumly at the three new hires and quickly signed off on their files. "Here," he said, thrusting the folders at Park. "The three of you report to personnel to complete your paperwork, then to HR so Camille can do whatever the hell it is she does up there. I want the three of you here first thing tomorrow morning ready to work. Am I clear?"

Rush didn't wait around to hear their response, throwing his pen down on his desk and leaving the platform that overlooked the large bay containing the stargate. He almost ran into Young as he stepped off the stairwell and onto the secondary platform that led to the crew quarters.

"Dr. Rush, where are you off to in such a -" Young asked before he was abruptly cut off.

"Not now!" he growled, not slowing his gait.

He swung by the officer's mess and had Pvt Becker prepare a cup of tea for Belle. If she were locked away in her quarters, there was a good chance she hadn't ventured out for sustenance. Armed with tea and a small bowl of porridge with sliced peaches the man had insisted he take along, he set off for the short walk to her apartment. The corridor where their quarters – his right next door to hers at her insistence – was deserted, the pale ivory walls dull and lackluster beneath the fluorescents, the pale gray linoleum equally boring standard issue for the base. He balanced the tray on his left arm and knocked with the curled knuckles of his right.

"Miss French?" Rush called, his voice sounding loud even to his own ears in the silence of the hallway. He knew how difficult this day was for her and wondered if he should even be bothering her. But where would he have been if she hadn't been there for him when he had been grieving so badly for his wife after he'd lost her? Probably dead from alcohol poisoning, he thought miserably. He knocked again. "Miss French, may I come in? I brought tea and Pvt Becker sent along some porridge. He said you hadn't been down for breakfast."

"Not hungry," came a muffled reply, but no other sounds – even those of footsteps – were forthcoming.

He shook his head at her stubbornness, wondering how he'd ever found anyone who could match his own. Without bothering to knock again, he turned the knob, smirking a bit when it turned easily in his hand. Belle never locked her door – a rather bad habit of hers – in case he needed her in the middle of the night. She pulled the blanket up over her head as the light from the hallway spilled into the darkened room. Because they were in the interior of the building, not to mention enclosed within the safety of the mountain, there were no windows.

Rush set the small tray on the bedside table and sat down next to her on the bed. She groaned as she felt his weight dip onto the mattress. "I told you I wasn't hungry."

"And since when has that ever stopped me, hm?" he returned. He was happy her head was covered and she couldn't see the blind devotion momentarily evident in his dark eyes. "I brought tea."

"Yes, I believe I heard you mention that when you were trying to beat down the door," she snarked. She poked her head out from beneath the covers and stared at the dainty little yellow and white teacup with its pattern of daisies painted on the side. It had been a Christmas gift from Rush once he'd finally accepted her presence in his life, and one memento he hadn't allowed her to leave behind in her apartment on Earth. Tears welled in her eyes as her fingers traced the slim curved handle.

"Why didn't you remind me yesterday?" he asked softly, folding his hands on his lap to stop himself from fidgeting. "I could have arranged to take you off planet. We could have done with a few days in Washington."

She shook her head and snatched several tissues from the box, almost hidden behind the tray, and blew her nose. "It was on your calendar and I also called Riley first thing to let him know I wouldn't be in today. Besides, if you didn't notice I was there –"

"Of course I noticed you weren't there!"

"- well I didn't want it to bring up bad memories of your own," she sniffed, sitting up enough to sip at her tea. Not having the stomach for it, she set the cup back on the tray and rolled over on her side to face the wall away from him. "Thank you … for the tea, Rush, but … I'm just not fit for company."

The scientist slipped out of his shoes and socks and shrugged out of his jacket, hanging it over the back of a chair set beside a small desk. Belle made a little squeak of protest when he nudged her over and crawled into bed with her, spooning against her back. "Too bad, Miss French. You need the comfort."

"But –"

"No buts. You're always there for me when the world is falling down about my ears. I can't do less for you," he murmured, his nose nuzzling beneath her ear as he buried his face against her nape. He slid his arm about her waist, holding her closely, and fit his legs against hers. "How long has it been since you lost him?"

"Y-You have work to do, Rush … and I-I don't n-need a babysitter," she cried, tears spilling over her ashen cheeks.

"The work will keep until tomorrow."

"T-That's a first."

"How long?" he persisted.

For a long while she wept quietly and he didn't think she would answer until finally, "Ten years. Ten years today."

"Do you want to talk about it? Him? It might make you feel better? It can't be good to keep this all bottled inside, Belle."

"I-I can't. I know you just want to help, but I c-can't, Rush," she sobbed, hating herself for the weakness that held her anchored to the bed, revisiting her grief as a way of remembering Gold as she did every day on the anniversary of his death. She pulled his arm more securely about her waist and held to his hand with both of hers. This was the first time she'd ever had someone with which to share her pain. She'd never allowed anyone to see her like this before. "Just … stay with me. Hold me, Rush … please."

Rush hugged her tightly, fitting his body to hers until there wasn't an inch of space between them, much as she'd done that night he'd tried to drink himself to death after he'd lost Gloria. In the two years since her death, he'd come to love his little assistant, and as more than just friends and colleagues. He wanted to hold her close to his side, cherish every inch of her and love her for the rest of his days. Yet how could he ever hope for her to return his feelings? He would have to content himself with her friendship and the little piece of herself she chose to give him. And he would see her through this, give her whatever she needed to mourn and then once more pick up the pieces of her life. He would stand by her always.

He brushed a feather light kiss to her nape and closed his eyes, settling in for the duration. "For as long as you need, Belle." _And then forever and a day._

 **A/N: This little ficlet is dedicated to my darling friend, cynicsquest, who is patiently waiting for another chapter of Another Chance which I have been remiss in updating lately. I hope this will tide you over until I can get off my duff and get it written. Love you, darling.**


	5. You're Fired

You're Fired

Belle's cerulean eyes flashed hotly as they bored into her boss from across her desk. "You're not serious!" she breathed, too furious – and more than a little stunned – to manage more volume.

Rush crossed his arms over his chest, the dry erase marker still clutched tightly in his hand, his knuckles white. He gnashed his teeth as he stared resolutely at his beloved assistant. "I have never been more serious about anything in my life, Miss French. Tomorrow you will board the Hammond and return to Earth permanently. You are no longer a part of this project," he said calmly, his voice soft. "Your services are no longer required."

"Why, Rush? Are you unhappy with my work, or is this about the scare we had yesterday?" she asked, trying to remain calm. Her heart hammered painfully in her chest. This couldn't be happening. He couldn't be sending her away. It was just too unreal to think that two such similar men would banish her from their lives without a second thought.

The day before, during their latest test to dial the ninth chevron, the core had nearly gone critical before Young had shut them down. The facility had taken some quake damage and she'd ended up shoved beneath her desk with Nicholas blanketing her body with his. Hardly cause to fire her and send her back to Earth.

"I was wrong. This isn't the right environment for you. If you return to Earth, you can finish your doctorate, and –"

"I can just as easily finish it when the project is concluded," she argued. "What have I done to displease you? I want an honest answer, Rush."

"It's safer on Earth. I'm not going to be responsible for your death, Miss French." He sighed, turning back to his white board and effectively putting an end to their discussion.

"You wanted me here!"

"And now I don't," he sneered, wiping down the board to begin his calculations all over again. "Go home. I don't need you anymore."

Belle seethed furiously, tears smarting at her lids as she stared at his back. The coldness of his voice sent an icy shiver down her spine as memories of her past rose up to taunt her. "You unbelievable bastard! This was your idea. How many strings did you have to pull to get me on board, Rush? How many favors did you have to call in?!" When he continued to ignore her, she yanked her portable hard drive out of the USB port and hurled it at the white board. The heavy piece of tech slammed into the flimsy board and cracked it in two as it toppled to the floor.

Rush whirled around, his mouth gaping at her display of temper. "Miss –"

"Oh shut up!" she shrieked, coming out from behind her desk to point her index finger into the center of his chest. "I get it that you're afraid, Rush, but I have news for you … I'm no longer on your bloody payroll, and you can't fire me."

"Yes, I bloody well can!" he raged back at her. He paced around her, shaking the marker at her as he laughed bitterly. "I brought you on this project and I can have you removed!" He stopped, planting his hands on his slim hips to bring his face close to hers. "Try me!"

Belle lifted her chin obstinately and narrowed her eyes in challenge. "Gladly!" she hissed, trying to ignore the fact that he was close enough to kiss. That would only complicate matters, however satisfying she might find the idea. Instead she turned on her heel and made her way to the stairs, needing to distance herself from him.

"Where are you going?" he called after her, appearing at the top of the stairs as she made her way to the bottom.

She turned back to glare up at him, ignoring several members of their science team and even more military personnel loitering about enjoying the show. "Anywhere that you aren't, _Dr_. Rush." She held her back ramrod straight as she set off down the catwalk which led to the common rooms and mess hall. She'd only taken perhaps five steps when she was pelted with Jolly Ranchers from above.

Rush smiled smugly as she covered her head before whipping it around to glare up at him again. The empty jar she kept on her desk hung limply from his hand as he leaned over the railing to gauge her reaction. "Don't forget your candies, Miss French," he snarled, baring his teeth in a menacing smile.

"What the hell is going on in here?" Colonel Young asked of no one in particular as he entered the gate room flanked by Scott and Greer.

"None of your business!" Rush and Belle growled simultaneously.

The colonel was taken aback, but let the matter drop as Rush went back to his work and Belle stormed off, disappearing down the corridor. Greer chuckled lowly and shared an amused look with Scott. A green wrapped candy crunched under the colonel's boot as he took a step towards the stairs. "Great," he grumbled. "Now who's going to clean up this mess?"

X*X*X*X*X

Belle stalked over to the door of her quarters and threw it open in response to the knock, angrily brushing away the tears that had been plaguing her for the better part of the hour since she'd fled the science lab. She was surprised to see the colonel's lapdog standing there on the threshold. "Hello, sergeant," she began, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. It was rude of her not to invite him in and offer her hospitality, but she wasn't in the right frame of mind for company. "What might I do for you?"

"Sorry to disturb you, Miss Belle," Greer said, a pleasant smile on his generous lips and a sparkle of mischief in his ocher eyes. "But I just thought you'd be wanting these back … seeing as how we're a bit far from the nearest Pick-N-Save."

Her eyes widened as he held out a small plastic bag to her filled with the Jolly Ranchers Rush had thrown over the balcony. "Y-You did this … for me?" she asked, a faint smile curling her lips as she stared up at him, startled by his generosity. "You didn't have to."

Greer hooked his thumbs into his belt and rocked back on his heels. "I wanted to, Miss Belle. Rush is not well-liked as I'm sure you already know, and we're not too keen on the way he treats you especially. You deserve better."

Even after the way he'd treated her this morning, she found it nearly impossible not to come to Rush's defense. "He's scared, sergeant … scared something is going to happen to me if I stay. As much as I'd like to punch him in the face, he's only trying to do what he feels is right," she admitted.

"You know I could help you with that."

"With what?"

"Self defense."

Belle tilted her head to the side and eyed him curiously. "You want to teach me to defend myself?" she asked dubiously.

"Why not?" he shrugged. "If nothing else it'll give you something to do in your spare time, _and_ it'll keep you from going too soft with all the desk work you seem to do."

Belle bit her lip thoughtfully. How might things have gone differently if Rumpelstiltskin had taught her how to defend herself when she'd lived with him? Would it have been so easy for the queen to capture and imprison her if she'd have had any idea how to physically take care of herself? She nodded impulsively, a wide grin forming on her lips. "Alright, you've got a deal, sergeant."

"It's …um, Ronald," he said, backing away from the door. "I'll be back to get you at four if that's alright with you?"

"I'll be ready. Thank you … Ronald."

Belle closed the door behind him and went to the cupboard to fetch the fixings for herbal tea. She wanted to have a cool head when she met with the sergeant later. It wouldn't be fair to take out her upset with Rush on the young marine, and she wanted to learn what he wanted to teach her with a clear head. She didn't know what good it would be, but she was a student first and foremost. Hopefully, it would be a good learning experience … one she could use in the future.

X*X*X*X*X

Young surveyed Dr. Rush quietly as the man entered his office, impatience, disdain and undisguised loathing on the scientist's face. "Colonel, you wanted to waste my afternoon with more of your demands, I presume?"

Everett smiled tightly, forever patient with the cantankerous Scot "No, not this time. Have a seat, Rush."

"I don't have time for this, Colonel, I –"

"Will have a seat while we wait for our other guest so we can begin our meeting," Everett said calmly, refusing to allow the man to rile him.

Rush dropped down into his chair and retrieved the notebook from the inside pocket of his brown sports coat which he wore over a wrinkled beige t-shirt. He then proceeded to ignore the colonel, losing himself in his work. The only sound in the room was the scratching of his pencil on the lined notebook paper until a knock came upon the office door. He didn't bother to look up as Everett called out for the mystery guest to enter.

"I'm sorry, Colonel, I just received your summons, and – "

Nicholas slowly rose to his feet, his eyes narrowing on his assistant dressed in a pair of yoga pants, bright blue tank and sneakers with a towel wrapped around her lovely neck. He had to wonder what she'd done with her free afternoon. Shouldn't she have been packing to return to Earth?

Young motioned her to the chair next to Rush. "Thank you for coming, Miss French. Now that you're here, perhaps we can discuss the scene in the gate room this morning."

Belle stiffened as she dropped into the chair, her body too battered to remain standing for long. She'd almost blown off the meeting in favor of a shower and her bed. She met his quizzical stare with a blank one of her own and kept her lips firmly sealed. She wouldn't even deign to look at Rush. The scientist remained equally silent, his angry gaze firmly locked on the colonel.

Everett folded his hands before him on the desk and eyed them both, his patience waning. "Alright, Miss French, would you like to tell me what happened this morning that has the entire base whispering like a bunch of fish wives with the latest gossip? Productivity is down forty-nine percent and it's all due to your little altercation."

"Not particularly," she said, brushing several damp tendrils away from her brow which had escaped her braid.

Young's gaze swung to Rush whose pencil had stilled, the man's jaw tightly clenched. "What about you, Rush?" Nicholas looked up at him, the cold glint in his eyes making it clear he wouldn't be forthcoming with any information. Belle bowed her head, concentrating on her hands fidgeting upon her lap. Everett rose and straightened his uniform jacket. "Fine. If you won't talk to me, then you _will_ talk to each other. You're not leaving this room until you work this out between you and get back to work." He gave them one more look, his eyes conveying just how serious he was before leaving them together in his office.

Rush suppressed a growl, the tension he placed on the pencil in his hand nearly enough to snap it in two. He was wound so tightly; he was surprised the bones in his neck hadn't begun to splinter. He still didn't look at her as he asked, "Have you finished your packing?"

"Why would I be packing when I won't be leaving the base?" she snapped, her hands now braced against the armrests as she turned her head to glare at him.

"Why would you wish to stay when you're no longer a part of my team?"

Belle tempered her anger, her nails now digging painfully into her palms as she turned to level him with her icy gaze. "I'm sure I could convince Jack to let me join Telford's team, Dr. Rush. Surely, my services are valuable to someone on this project if you no longer need me," she smirked.

His angry gaze swung to her, fire in the depths of his eyes. "You would find a position on that bastard's team after he had me black-balled from going on the away mission?! How could you do –"

"I could ask the same of you!" she hissed, rising to her feet to face him fully. "I've done everything you've ever asked, Rush. I've worked diligently at your side and helped you step by step to find the answers to your ninth chevron. It was my idea for the video game, to imbed the math proof in hopes someone would be able to solve it where we couldn't. What have I done wrong?"

"Nothing!" he snarled, his voice rising as he stood to close the distance between them. His hands closed like iron bands over her upper arms, giving her a little shake. "You've been perfect, damnit!"

Belle's features relaxed into a sympathetic mein as she braced her palms against his chest. "Then why, Rush? Why do you want me to leave?"

Nicholas stared down at her in horror, his errant tongue the bane of his existence. "I don't want you to die," he whispered brokenly. "You're my only friend, Belle. I don't want you to die because I dragged you up here." He released her, his hands balling into fists at his sides as his temper cooled.

"You could die too, Rush," she said softly, her hand cupping his jaw. Her touch coaxed him to open his eyes, to look at her and give her the attention she deserved. "It's a risk we all take … all of us, because we believe in the project. You can't send me away because you're afraid." Her hand slipped beneath his hair to caress the tangled knots littering his nape caused by overwork. "You need me, Rush … just as I need you. We've been through too much together to let it end now. Let me help you," she murmured, a soft smile soothing away the last of the hard feelings between them. "Tell me to stay."

"You're a manipulative woman, Belle French," he said, arching a brow at her.

"Yeah, I know, but you like me anyway."

"You're in danger here. More than I thought possible when I was first approached for Icarus."

"So are you."

"Stop arguing with me."

She shook her head. "Nope." She could already see him caving. "I'm sorry I broke your white board."

He waved her off with a dismissive hand. "Another was brought up from storage … and I've already repaired your hard drive," he muttered, ducking his head sheepishly. "I'm sorry I threw your candies."

"So … are you ready to get back to work?" she asked hesitantly, still rubbing the knots at the back of his neck.

"I haven't asked you to stay."

Belle dropped her hands to her sides and regarded him from beneath her lashes, judging his mood. "But you will."

Nicholas tried not to let his fears of what could happen dampen the happiness he suddenly felt at having her back at his side. "Perhaps. I need the latest report on the tests we ran yesterday before we meet with General O'Neil tomorrow," he said. "And maybe a cup of that french roast you keep on hand?"

Her smile was radiant as she moved to the door and threw it open. "I can do that."

He followed her from the room, ignoring Young's querulous gaze as they moved through the outer office and into the corridor. Yet one question still remained as they began to ascend the stairs to the lab. "Miss French?"

"Hmm?"

"Why are you dressed like that?" he asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. He couldn't help but admire the way her yoga pants hugged her lush curves.

She winked at him over her shoulder, her smile mischievous. "Wouldn't you like to know," she snarked. She left him on the landing, her hips swaying as she disappeared behind her desk to fetch a packet of his beloved coffee. It might be instant, but it never ceased to comfort him.

"Bollocks," he grumbled under his breath. He hated when he didn't know something, and Belle was a mystery he feared he'd never solve.

 **A/N: Just thought I'd give you a little taste. I am about halfway done with the newest chapter of Another Chance, but this little plot bunny took over yesterday and wouldn't let go. Hope you all liked it :D Thanks so much for reading.**


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